


Warmth

by thewworst



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, I'll keep adding tags as we go, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, Secret Marriage, Touch-Starved, powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:19:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewworst/pseuds/thewworst
Summary: Viktor might be the man with the coldest hands on earth, and anyone that catches a glimpse of the leather gloves that cover his hands and forearms had half the mind not to to touch him.On the other hand, Yuuri could very well be the person with the warmest hands on earth, and if you look close enough, you could notice the way that plants seem to curl into his hand whenever his fingers reach to gently touch the petals of a flower.





	1. Prologue

It's not at all uncommon, most people had some sort of affinity, wether it was their ability to work with fabric, almost as if they were whispering to it, telling it exactly how to hold itself into the perfect piece of clothing, or being able communicate with their animals, calming their horses and cows during a rampage, but Yuuri's family was neither of those.

Ever since he was small, Yuuri has been surrounded by the smell of dirt and grass, the warm feeling of the sun on his skin and the sound of birds and insects around him, and these seemed to accompany him everywhere, even as he walked among the sea of people who attended the market, the sweat and grime of others rubbing on him, the fresh smell of his garden still trailed behind him, making people's head look up, at the presence they'd just passed.

Maybe it was because he didn't like all of the attention he got from all of those strangers, but he didn't like going to the market, though he admitted it was a necessity, to sell and buy goods, he went to the market twice a week, both to buy and sell.

He'd arrive early in the morning, when other merchants were setting up their tents, with a great assortment of flowers and berries of all kinds, for that was what sold most, and surprisingly, there were always people who were in need of flowers.

He'd greet and be greeted by the other merchants, sell his flowers and berries, buy what he needed and leave early in the afternoon, not wanting to linger and leave as quickly as possible.

Each time he walked back to his small cottage, when past the wall which separated the town from the rest of the world, he felt as if he were being greeted by the trees, the grass, the dirt, the flowers and the river which lead to his home, and he would greet them all back, as he always had.

* * *

 

Viktor's hands had always been cold, same as the rest of his family, but he wasn't always as cold as he was now. He vaguely remembered holding his mother's hand as they walked, or holding a friend's hand when he was only a small child and only getting a little giggle and shiver from his friend, accompanied by a giggle, or only a squeak.

It was after the war, finished at the tender age of three, that the family lost his elder brother, that his skin became colder.

He didn't remember his brother, he had to admit, for he'd been recruited when he'd just been born, so no matter how he tried, he found himself unable to really mourn for him. But his parents did not.

The loss of a child is something no parent should ever go through, Viktor could understand that much at least; but what he couldn't understand was the reason behind the negligence his parents showed towards him. He'd walk up to his mother, who was sobbing uncontrollably with a piece of cloth in her hand. He'd tug at her dress, long and bright and beautiful, and ask what was wrong. She turned and halfheartedly tried to smile, before patting his hair briefly and telling him to go check on his father or to go play outside.

This would go on for years, and day after day, he'd be turned away, and with each rejection, his skin would get colder, he'd grow more and more detached, slowly learning how to put on a fake smile, or how to force a laugh, and to ignore the hole in his chest.

His father passed nine years after his brother from a terrible sickness, and his mother only worsened, as she stopped talking completely, not bothering to voice a word to his now elder and only son, but Viktor tried his best not to grow bitter towards his mother, who was now old and tired and running out of gold.

He thought about his next move for weeks, watching his mother's back.

Life with her hadn't been easy, he'd had to take care of her almost all his life, and he'd had to do his best to work and make enough for both of them, but over the years it hadn't been enough.

His mother barely ate or walked and because of this she got sick constantly and refused to show any sings of it until her sickness had her coughing per breath.

The years having taken a toll on her, constant doctor visits and all the different medicines they tried did not come cheap. Money was quickly running out.

He went over various options, knowing that his hands could only do so much until they were starving, he weighed all of his options carefully until he finally reached a decision.

Walking slowly, and gently placing his gloved hands on her mother's cold shoulders, he leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"I'm going to leave soon, mother, I knew someone from three towns over, she can help," he felt her mothers shoulders shift slightly under his hands, and she turned her ear towards him, willing to listen, "her family has the gold we need, and she needs to marry soon. I'll have someone take care of you when I leave."

Her mother beneath him nodded, before turning her gaze back to the window dismissively. He bit his lower lip, and swallowed a lump in his throat, before planting a quick, cold kiss on her mother's wrinkled skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea I had the other day, which I really liked, and I thought it would be a good idea to explore it a bit to see how it worked out.


	2. July

Yuuri huffed as he looked at the flowers resting on the table, freshly cut at the stem with the thorns still attached to most of them. The small room smelled intensely of roses and fresh dirt and grass as his fingers worked steadily and half heartedly to cut the thorns off, careful not to break or peel the stem.

He sighed and murmured a curse under his breath as he realised he was almost done, one step closer to having to leave.

He hated Wednesdays. He hated having to leave the comfort of his house, the smell of his flowers and the breeze that fluttered the trees surrounding him and hearing the slow flowing pace of the river, he hated having to trade the peace and quiet of his home for the loud and chaotic chatter and movement of the market.

He wiped his hands on his trousers when he finished before reaching blindly for the string inside one of the cupboards, his gaze steady on the window in front of him.

His fingers moved almost automatically as they took five or six flowers at a time, tying them together, before cutting the string with an old and worn scissor and placing the flowers aside, continuing on the next one. 

_Over and under and knot and pull and over and under and knot and pull..._

He gazed up at the window, past the glass and straight at the horizon, where the day was only starting, the sun lazily coming up and showering his garden with soft sunlight and tainting the sky with a bright blotch of orange and lilac.

He'd been putting off going into town for almost two weeks now, telling himself that he still has enough food, spices and supplies to keep working, but after having taken a look into his cupboard the night before it told him that he only had enough food for a few more days before he had to go back for supplies.

The sound of the old door and the creaking of the floorboards underneath his feet as he moved with the small bouquets in his arms made him cringe, a whine forming deep in his throat as he realized he might have to replace the floor soon, too.

He _really_ didn't like going into town like this.

As he opened the door while fumbling with the flowers in his arms, he made sure to keep his fingers on their petals, shushing (almost) to himself under his breath and carefully placing the bouquets in the cart, which had been sitting next to the entrance of his cabin for the two weeks that he'd refused to show to the market, looking miserable and abandoned.

He took the handles of the cart and started walking, before halting quickly and running back inside to retrieve his tent and cloak.

He swore as he tied it around his shoulders and covered the flowers with the tent to keep them from getting blown away by any gust of wind that might come through. It really had been a while since he'd had to prepare for the market.

He wanted to make this as quick as possible, get there early to set up his tent, flowers, sell them and then buy whatever it was he needed,if possible, buy enough for another two weeks. He'd taken the most beautiful flowers that had been growing in his garden, roses of all size and colours, knowing that those were the ones that sold the most.

As much as he wanted to take in the sound of the river and the smell of wet dirt as he rolled his cart into town, he knew better than to make this a leisurely walk, if he hurried, it would take between twenty and thirty minutes while pushing the cart the to make it to the market, and then another ten to put up his tent. If he wanted to avoid having to set up his flowers as crowds make their way up and down the stands, he'd need to hurry up.

The entrance to the town isn't anything grand, Yuuri thought, as he started pushed the cart form dirt and grass to cold stone, the wooden wheel making as much noise as possible, announcing his presence and making blood rush to his cheeks.

As he made this way to the market (rather loudly) he was greeted happily by the other vendors and acquaintances. He sheepishly waved back at them and smiled, until he finally found an empty spot between two tents.

He let out a breath of relief and shot a small smile to the lady beside him. She was finishing putting up her own tent and she was always very kind towards him, occasionally giving him some of the cloaks she sold as a gift when they hadn't been sold for a while. She was large and in her mid-fifties, but quite young and beautiful in spirit, he had found, never failing to make a joke or point to him when people were looking for decorations.

And he could occasionally hear her swear under her breath when she spotted a particularly good-looking customer.

She let out a small gasp of feigned surprise, saying something about him being dead that he barely heard. He only laughed and shook his head, giving her a polite and sufficient reply before continuing to put up his tent.

* * *

He'd barely finished arranging his flowers and bouquets by the time people started to arrive and the noise started to become louder than his thoughts.

He felt a small shiver go down his spine, and handed over some flowers to a little girl, who gave him three coins in exchange and a bright smile. He couldn't help but smile back as she turned around and left, turning sideways and letting his fingers rearrange his remaining flowers.

"Oh my, you seem to be almost sold out already, Yuuri." The woman next to him said after a while, "Did you purposely bring the smallest amount of flowers you could carry with you?" She asked, a sarcastic tone at the back of her tone. 

Yuuri smiled understandingly; his flowers sold incredibly well and incredibly fast, and he wasn't making as much money as he could. If he wanted to, he could buy himself a place and formally start a flower shop, and yet he didn't.

"I just want to leave as early as possible," he explained, looking down to his hands. Someone else approached him, and as he handed the man one of the last bouquets he continued explaining, "I just came here to buy some things I need."

"Hmph..."

There wasn't a fair answer to what she had said, as there was no logical reason as to why Yuuri decided to stay secluded from the rest of world, and as much it ate away at him to know that whatever reasons he gave himself had no sense, it frustrated him more to try and think of a logical excuse.

As the last of his flowers were sold and Yuuri apologised to other customers that approached him as he was packing up, making a mental checklist of the things he needed desperately and things he didn't. As he did so, the market was running at full capacity, vendors yelling and coins being tossed around, and caught somewhere in the middle of it, as he stood awkwardly, trying to push his cart between crowds and trying to avoid his wheel from rolling over people's feet, stopping and buying meat and spices, as well as some gardening tools.

He mindlessly greeted other people that recognised him, shooting insincere smiles left and right, until he realised he was caught in the middle of a group of younger girls, girls who refused to move.

They giggled and whispered to each other, oblivious to the man with the heavy cart behind them.

He looked around before calling out to them once more, in vain. He huffed and stood on his toes, reaching his hand and tapping one of them on the shoulder.

Thy both ceased their giggling before turning to look at him with embarrassment written all over their faces, though he still smiled kindly at them, not wanting to seem rude.

"Oh, very sorry, we must've been standing i your way this whole time!" One of them gushed, face beer red.

He shook his head, with a chuckle, "It's quite all right, I understand," he said, "sometimes people just become quite distracted, you're only human, after all."

Politely, the two girls moved aside, before mumbling an apology once more, and Yuuri slowly pushed his cart past them, nodding at them, before slowing down once more, noticing that there was a crowd of people, blocking the view to one of the stands, making it almost impossible to know what they might've been selling there.

He stopped in his tracks, his grip numb on the handles of his cart and his eyebrows furrowed on his forehead.

Sure, it was common to see a stand that was crowded, though he doubted that in all of his years being a regular there he'd ever seen a tent gather the attention of that many people at the same time.

Surely in the two weeks he's missed he hadn't missed the welcoming of another vendor, had he?

With curiosity taking over his mouth and young, he turned halfway around, to look at the pair of girls, who's attention was still glued to the crowd, and asked "What is that person selling that's so interesting and gossip worthy?" He asked.

The girl's attention turned to him once more, surprise briefly showing on their faces, before they looked at each other with mischievous looks on their eyes.

"It's not that it's selling anything any rarer than the others, mister" one of them said.

"It's the person that's  _buying_  there thats gathering all the attention," the other completed, lust somewhat present in her dark eyes.

"Oh?" He said, an eyebrow raised in confusion, "and who is this person? Do you know them?"

They both shook their heads, and one of them leaned in to whisper, "He's new, apparently he came here from a much larger town--"

"A city!"

"And he's  _very_  handsome--"

" _And_ mysterious--"

"He's wearing gloves, even though it's mid July--"

"And he hasn't let anyone touch him, not even to shake hands!"

Yuuri's mouth gathered into a pout, confused, and barely being able to understand what the girls were saying, as they talked over each other, but still he nodded as if understanding. "I see," he said and his eyes went back to the crowd, this time noticing that it was mostly made up of younger ladies, most of them in the age where they'd be getting ready to marry, and the occasional gentleman and innocent bystander who clearly just wanted to buy whatever was being sold there.

He took in a deep breath, and thought he tried to convince himself not to, he stood on his toes once more, trying to catch a glimpse of the stranger. After two failed attempts, he sighed and shook his head, before his head slowly turned to the ladies who were studying him intently.

He flushed and they giggled, and before they could say anything more, he quickly regained the grip on his cart and pushed his way through the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually going to be much longer, but I thought it would be best if I left it there.


	3. Cold Fingers

Viktor hadn’t known what to expect when he started packing his things to leave two days before, and having grown up in a much more developed town than the one where he found himself in, he wasn’t impressed, he also wasn’t disappointed, having tried to refrain from expecting anything or dwelling too much over what his new home would be like. 

As his horse walked slowly over to the gates that stood before him, his eyes drifted over the wall and up to the sky, admiring the colours reflected on the clouds, a beautiful and different array of orange and lilac melting into one another, as the breeze fluttered through the leaves mindlessly.

He took a deep breath, fresh morning air filling his senses and letting his shoulders relax on his body, knowing that it would only be a few more minutes unil he could finally get off the horse and walk, stretch his legs and get settled. 

He turned his gaze back to the gate, and he noticed a guard, a rather bored-looking guard, sitting at the entrance, an apple in one hand and his other reaching defensively for the hilt of the sword, as if for comfort. He sighed but managed to smile politely before stopping in front of him and hopping down, his gloved hands still on the leash from keeping the horse from running away. 

“Good morning,” Viktor offered politely, “Is this the entrance to town, I suppose?” 

He let his eyes wander behind the tall man in armour, and handed him the reigns to the horse, "You wish to look though my belongings, no?” 

The guard did not hesitate and went straight for the purse hanging from the horse’s backside, and Viktor adjusted his cloak, distracting himself from the guard who was currently rummaging through his personal belongings. 

He kept expecting to hear (something) crunching under his feet, leaves or snow, but the sound that his boots made as they walked on the grass was almost null. It didn’t crunch because it was withering, like it usually did, it was the dirt and rocks hidden under the green. 

He looked down to his boots and noticed the path inside was barely visible, making it clear that not many people walked through here, he might’ve been the first stranger to have come through here in a while, which would explain the reason why the guard had been so surprised to the sight of him.

These thoughts formulated slowly, Viktor doing his best to imagine making himself a new life here, at first, he tried to look at it in a good way, he wouldn’t feel as weighed down by his mother, _(but you would)_.

He turned around again and smiled at the man, who'd finished and handed him the reigns to the horse.

He took them carefully once more and nodded, pulling his horse behind him through the now open gate.

His horse’s hooves clopped loudly against the stones on the floor, the echoing around the empty street and walls. He’d gotten there earlier than he’d expected, but he supposed that for the time being, it would be best to avoid crowds while he looked for a place to stay before he dropped by his new future home.

He walked slowly, and looked around attentively, taking in his surroundings and occasionally glancing up to the sky, watching as the last of the oranges and purples faded into a softer morning blue.

Signs hung from the side of small buildings, with things such as “Inn” and “Pub” engraved into the wood with beautiful scripts. That was what caught his attention first and most. He walked towards the Inn and tied his horse to the nearest piece of wood he could find,he didn’t notice what it was, not caring much if it were to run away or if it got stolen, considering he was probably going to seel it either way, now that he'd hardly have use for it and it might cost more to mantain it. He took his bags from the back of the horse and walked inside.

He booked a room for one night, handed the gold and once he had the key to his room in his hands, immediately headed upstairs with the bag on his shoulders.

He threw his belongings on the floor and looked out the window, looking over as tents were starting to get set up and people started leaving their homes, basket in their hands and a small pouches hanging from their hips.

He ran his gaze over the town, the market, as if was slowly flooding with more and more people, filling the air with chatter and different smells, and hiding the ground beneath them with colourful tents.

He thought of his brother for a moment, he wondered if he'd had to go through this same situation were he here, but he stopped himself, there wasn’t really anyone to blame this on, especially not a dead man.

He then blinked, noticing he’d been creeping out the window for a while, the sky and the blue a much brighter hue, the sun now much brighter, shining down on the thin fabric of the tents and casting colourful shadow on the people below them.

He remembered why he was there, in that place, and sighed, pushing off the window sill and searching for his pouch among his belongings. It didn’t take much to find it; he hadn’t brought much with him, just enough for the trip and until he got around to buying new clothes. Which had to be soon, he’d only brought one pair of (rather thin) gloves and cloak. It might’ve been irresponsible of him, but he’d still gone through with it, almost as if trying to delay what he’d come to do in the first place.

He opened the door, making sure the key was in his pouch along with some gold and started heading for the market.

When he’d arrived, there hadn’t been that many people around, and Viktor had almost been fooled by this that maybe there weren’t many people at all, and despite the sea of people that could be seen form the inn’s window, he realised that being part of the crowds was a completely different experience.

He did his best not to bump shoulders or elbows, wrapping his cloak around his body closer. He realised how out of place he looked among the people there. Everyone was dressed in loose clothes, keeping them fresh. It wasn’t long before people started noticing his presence, and it didn’t surprise him.

He couldn’t say it bothered him much either, it was something he’d gotten used to, but it didn’t stop him from wishing that maybe he’d be overlooked in what was to be his new home.

He started to loosen his grip on his cloak slowly as the possibility of bumping into people lessened. He smiled and waved at people here and there, when he noticed them staring, finding it amusing and flattering.

It wasn’t their fault, he thought as more and more people started murmuring and pointing at him, they don’t seem to get many foreigners, anyways. He’s probably the first visitor they’d had in a while.

He looked through the stands, being greeted with bright smiles and smalltalk. He answered and spoke politely, as he always did, a smile on his face and slight laughter behind his voice.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”, Yes, “Where do you come from?”, From a few towns over, he barely registered as the questions kept coming, introductions and women. There were a lot of women. He pretended not to notice their advances, and smiled politely at them, gently declining handshakes and cheek kisses.

He realised eventually that there was a small crowd forming around him and the stand he was browsing at, he looked at thw busy lady managing her...what was she selling? He didn't know, the questions directed towards him drowned out everything else. He gave her a smile and thanked her, before moving on to the next one, this went on for some time, until he managed to slip away and excuse himself, once the crowd had thinned in the market an hour or so later.

Three people remained with him, talking and asking, telling him where one could eat and who to buy food from. He nodded and smiled, at what they said, but paid no mind, only walking forwards mindlessly as he was finally able to stop to each stand, even though some of them seemed to be starting to pack up. A few minutes later, he was left along in front of one of the last few stands who was only starting to pack. He approached her, and though she noticed his presence, she said nothing, not a greeting or an insult, instead seeming concentrated on folding cloaks.

He sighed and looked to the empty space next to her, where another stand might’ve been standing only a few minutes before. Petals were on the ground and one had fallen upon the table, he noticed as his fingers slowly reached for it.

When he caught it between his fingers, he sighed in disappointment as frost immediately started to gather form his fingers and outwards, eventually covering it completely and making it shrivel into it self. Only a few seconds ago it had been soft and bright, the edges of it had still been fresh as if it had only fallen from the flower a few minutes ago. He held it for only a second more before he let it fall to the ground. It was a shame, he thought as he stared at the empty spot where the flower stand must've been only a few minutes ago, had he gotten there a few minutes earlier he wouldve bought a bouquet for her.

"Who was selling flowers?" He heard himself ask.

The lady, who was now looking at him intently stood in silence for a second, as her eyes quickly shifted to where his own were staring and then she smiled slightly and nodded, as if she now understood the question.

"Ah, that was Katsuki Yuuri," she said, resuming her actions, "He left about an hour ago," she said.

"An hour ago?" He wondered, surprised.

"Yes, dear, some time ago," she said, seemingly oblivious to what he'd noticed, "he might not be the only one who sells flowers here, but his are certainly the most beautiful, he always sells out in a few hours."

"I see..." he said, "then do you know what time he gets here? I'd like to buy a bouquet from him,"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, in mild sympathy, "Oh, dear, he only comes to the market once or twice in a week, and sometimes not at all. Before today he hadn't shown up in two weeks, catching him is a matter of luck. He seems to like to keep to himself." She explained.

He looked at her, his eyes wide and dissapointed. He bit his cheek and sighed, he suppoed it was bad luck, he could just get a bouquet from someone else.

He smiled and thanked her, but before he left, he heard the woman call out to him and he turned around.

"If you really want to, he lives on the outskirts of town, he doesn't live far, about a twenty minute walk. Follow the river and you should get there in no time. And do be patient with him, dear, I don-t think he gets many visitors."

He processed the words and smiled, nodding and giving her a bright thank you, turning around once more and headed back down the market, where people were headed home to have lunch. Viktor walked onwards, the gate approaching him once more.

* * *

The look he'd gotten from the lone guard at the entrance had been nothin short of suspicious, and for a moment Viktor thought that maybe it would've been a bad idea to come in and leave again the same day, but as he watched the shadows and rays of sunlight fall upon the untouched grass beneath his boots from the trees, he couldn't seem to concentrate on anything else. The air moved through the leaves in the trees and they fell, probably getting caughg and tangled in his long hair, but he didn't seem to notice or care. 

He'd done as the woman had said and was following the river, and not just the riverphysically,  the sound of the river was constant and relaxing, making his feet move in a steady rythm, as if hypnotised.

With his mouth slightly ajar and his eyebrows arched in amazement, he tried to take everything about the walk in. The smells and the sounds. 

He kept his hand on his gold pouch and the other on the only button at the neck of his cloak, not because he was afraid that it might be blown away, for the wind wasn't string enough to do so. He also wasn't worried that a theif might run off with his gold, or that he might drop it, because he knew that these trails had remained almost untouched, probably nobody but the flower boy lived there and if he were to drop his pouch he'd have enough time to find it. No, he didn't keep his hands there because of that. He knew that if he were to touch anything there he'd be leaving a mark, an ugly and cold one. His hand embedded on a tree trunk with frost snow and ice.

Before he realized, the branches packed with leaves above him started thinning, the sun blinding him momentarily as he stepped out into the open. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second and opened them once more, his sight adjusting to his new surroundings.

The first thing to catch his eye had been the shack in the middle of the open field he was standing in. Thought it might've seemed old at first sight, it was by no means abandoned, he noticed. The windows were clean and even from where he was standing he could tell the the inside was clean and neat, and the wood almost new.

He took in a small breath as his sight wandered from the shack to the garden surrounding it. Flowers of all shapes and sizes with petals bright and colorful. The scents around him fresh and intoxicating. Everything almost too much for him to process at once, he stood still, almost paralyzed, thinking, trying to find the words to describe what he was seeing. There wasn't a patch of grass that wasn't covered in flowers, and with bees and butterflies jumping from flower to flower, he wouldn't've been surprised had he been told that faeries lived there. 

He felt his eyes snap shut for only a second, before he forced his feet to move, boots grazing grass and the petals of the endless flowers surrounding him.

He fixed his gaze down on the leather of his feet and concentrated on himself, keeping his cold from spilling everywhere and washing over the plants, it was the last thing he wanted to happen. 

How was it possible for so many different flowers to grow in the same place? Some of them didn’t even seem local.

From behind the shack, Yuuri emerged, and jumped only slightly, startled by the unexpected visitor. He dropped the handles of his wheelbarrow and stumbled backwards. His heart beating hard and faster than usual– _than normal_ –he stood behind the corner of his home, only his head peeking out and keeping a close watch on the intruder.

He held his breath and observed his careful movements, each step he took slow and hesitant, feet stopping mid-air before continuing as if he were being extremely careful not to step on his flowers. Was he sneaking? Did he want to break into his house? 

Stupid. 

He didn’t have much of anything worth stealing.

He slowly reached for the shovel resting behind him, and tried not to get distracted by the way the stranger’s long silver hair seemed to fall around him, and he tried not to imagine what his face looked like underneath it.

He pursed his lips and got a tight grip on the shovel, deciding to make his way quietly to 

Viktor walked slowly and in shallow breaths, oblivious to the flower boy who was slowly emerging from the corner of the shack with a shovel raised over his head, ready to hit him when he got close enough, but he still stopped, as something caught his eye. 

It wasn’t Yuuri, but he still stopped, freezing in place like a statue, while his arms shook overhead from the weight of the shovel.

It was a flower. He was surrounded by them, he was walking in an ocean of flowers, but this one had made him stop completely. It was different from the rest, or at least in his eyes it was. The most beautiful blue he’d seen, nothing like the clear shade of the sky, or the icy blue that he was so used to seeing. It was a darker, as if a wilting rose had been dipped in the ocean and had emerged full of life.

He didn’t realise he’d already extended his hand and was reaching down, his gloved fingers reaching for the stem.

Yuuri’s eyebrows were knitted together, slowly dropping his arms to watch the man's curious actions.

His fingers wrapped carefully around the flower and plucked it, straightening his back once more and brushing his long hair from his eyes, so that he could look at it even more carefully, wanting to take in every detail of it, the way it seemed to breathe in his hand, petals fluttering slightly with the wind that passed. He touched the petal carefully with the tip of his free hand and sighed contently, his mind revolving around the blue rose completely.

He was sure that roses grew in bushes, not in fields, and only red and white roses existed, but instead of questioning it, he felt the corners of his lips curl into a small yet sincere smile.

Yuuri relaxed, now that he could see his eyes, after he'd brushed the curtain of sliver hair from his eyes, he found himself staring at the blue eyes and thick lashes that hid them from view every few seconds, the slightly red nose and cheeks and heart shaped mouth, all of these melting into an expression of childlike wonder as he ran the flower through his gloved fingers, delivering careful touches to the stem and petals as if he were afraid it would crumble to dust, or dissapear into thin air.

Viktor sighed and let the flower rest for a few seconds in his hands, and closed his eyes, his face relaxing, and without thinking, he slowly brought the rose to his nose, slowly inching it closer to his face. He was calm in that moment, relaxed. He wanted to lau down between the flowers and look at the sky and _breathe._ He wished he could feel the grass and the flowers brushing against his skin without them _freezing_.

Viktor gasped, snapping out of it suddenly. His eyes shot open and he yanked the rose away from his face, praying that it was in the same beautiful state it had been only seconds before he'd decided that smelling it was a good idea, but he knew what he was going to be waiting for him before he saw it. Under a thin layer of ice in his hands rested the blue rose. Cold and dead. He felt himself start to shake, he hadn't had an accident like this in years. 

How could he have been so stupid? He knew he shouldn't've touched the flower to begin with. Even just being there was risky, why did he do that? He let out a whimper and dropped the flower to the ground, taking his cape into his hands and covering himself as much as he could. He heard a loud clang and was surprised to see a young man rushing over to him.

Immidiately, he knew it was the flower boy, and he heard a string of apologies leave his mouth, " _I'm sorry, I shouldn't've--, I'm so sorry, I'll just--_ ", but to his surprise, the flower boy didn't seem mad at him, instead, his brown eyes were full of concern as they stared into his own blue ones, palms up and shushing and telling him it was alright.

When he reached him, Viktor took a step back, but Yuuri bent down to pick up the flower.

Viktor was about to tell him not to, for it would be colder than regular ice, but to his surprise, when Yuuri's hands touched the ice, he didn't flinch, or show any signs of pain or discomfort, instead, he calmly lifted the rose and watched as the ice melted and fell to water the flowers around him.

"It's fine," he said, running his hand over the wilted petals and bringing them back to life, color returning to them as if nothing had happened, "see?"

He brought the flower up and showed it to him, and Viktor was nothing short of speechless.

He swallowed and forced his gaze from the flower to the flower boy's eyes.

As his blue eyes met the brown eyes in front of him, bright and inviting, he felt a slight shiver go down his spine and blinked. His mouth had fallen slightly open and he couldn't seem to be able to pry his sight away from him.

Yuuri looked back at him, admiring the details he hadn't been able to mak out from far away and fel blood rush to his cheeks. He blinked a few times, swallowed and bit his lip, forcing himself, in between stutters and stammers to speak.

"Uh, would you--what can I help you with?"

He cringed at his own voice. It had sounded worse than he thought it could've.

Viktor hadn't heard. He'd noticed only after a few seconds that he'd said something. He cleared his throat and asked "Pardon?"

"Is there something I could help you with?" He asked again, his voice now even and cooler,and forced a small shaky smile on his face.

"Oh, yes, I uh--I came for some flowers. The woman in the market, she  told me to come here, I hope you don't mind," Viktor said and smiled, feeling his cheeks warm slightly.

Yuuri nodded, "No, no, it's fine, I'm just not to used to having people stop by for flowers, they usually don't want to walk all the way here," he said with a forced chuckle and Viktor smiled at him, eyds wide and never leaving his, making it harder for Yuuri not to stumble over his words, "I'm Yuuri Katsuki, by the way." 

"I'm Viktor Nikiforov," he answered delighted. He had already known his name,  the woman at the market had mentioned it to him, but he was glad that Yuuri had introduced himself anyways. 

"Oh, it's a plasure to meet you," He said and offered his hand. Viktor looked at it, his face falling as he busied his hands on his money pouch.

"I'd better not," he said quietly and looked away.

Yuuri nodded, undertandingly and rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at the blue rose, "So what can I help you with?" He said, not wanting to make the silence any longer than it needed to be, "you said you needed flowers, anything specific or just a simpler bouquet?"

Viktor nodded, "A bouquet is fine, I'll trust your judgement on which flowers would be best for it, I dont know much about them myself, you see." he said with a chuckle, "But I've been told you're the best when it comes to flowers,"

Yuuri couldn't help but smile and blush slightly. He avoided Viktor's eyes, but he still took notice, reveling in the way he shied way from his gaze, "Well, I'm flattered, but they were far too kind," he said, gathering his wits before looking back at Viktor and motioning to his shack, "Would you like to come inside?"

It had been a while since someone had visited, and he felt embarrassed that Viktor had to see his shabby home, but he also couldn't let him stand outside. After a few moments, Viktor nodded, letting Yuuri lead him inside.

Inside was clean and cozy and Viktor loved it. The smell of fresh flowers was imprinted on everything inside. The bed in the corner neatly done and fireplace free of ashes. He looked everywhere, and laughed slightly when he heard Yuuri apologize for the shabbyness of it.

He offered Viktor a seat and he accepted, as Yuuri opened and closed cupboards, taking out string, scissors and paper, placing it on the table in front of him. Viktor observed the concentration in his movements.

Yuuri felt the new pair of eyes on his movements, he was aware of the way that they followed him, making him nervous, shaking and dropping things when he picked them up. He swallowed when the things he needed were laid before him on the table. He looked up and caught Viktor’s eyes looking at him intently. Viktor smiled at him briefly, before he turned his attention to the window looking out over his garden, curiosity shining deep in his eyes.

He excused himself for a second as he went to gather flowers from his garden, kneeling down and picking them carefully from the ground and putting them aside. He looked over his shoulder, back to the window, where he could make out Viktor, watching as he picked the flowers. He continued to mindlessly pick the flowers, as he tried to remember ever seeing Viktor before in the market. A tall figure with long silver hair trailing behind it, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he would’ve remembered him.

He went back inside and laid the flowers down on the table, letting out a breath. He wanted to know, but couldn’t seem to ask anything.

“Are you a faery?” Viktor blurted out suddenly, catching Yuuri off-guard. He looks at him wide eyed and awaiting an answer. Yuuri let out a chuckle after a few seconds, about to brush his question off as a joke, before he realised that it wasn’t.

He distracted himself, cutting off thorns lime he had in the morning and placing the flowers to the side, “No, I’m not,” he said, “frankly, I’m not too convinced they exist,"

“Oh,” Viktor said, somewhat disappointed, “You’ll have to forgive me, it’s just that I don’t think I’ve ever seen a garden as beautiful as this one,” 

_Or a flower come back to life._

Yuuri smiled, flattered, and muttered a thank you, “Have you always been able to do that?” Viktor asked again, and Yuuri nodded.

“Flowers always grew where I was,”

There was a small moment of silence, where the only sound was the snipping of the scissors, “They’re very beautiful,” Viktor said under his breath. Yuuri didn’t catch that.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Yuuri asked quietly, embarrassed. He was still struggling to remember if he had seen him before, but now he was certain.

“No,” He said, “I’m from a few towns over, I got here this morning.”

Yuuri hummed in response, remembering the foreigner the people in the market were gushing over. If he listened closely, he could hear the slightly different intonation to his words, not bad, but different, definitely foreign. "And what brings you here? You’re probably the first person in a long time to come here.”

“Oh, my mother.” 

“She lives here? What’s her name, perhaps I know her.”

“No, I came here to help my mother, economically. It’s only me and her, you see, and she stayed behind.”

Viktor shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a second before responding; he didn’t want to talk about his mother or his family in general, so he hoped the vague answer sent a silent message.

Yuuri sucked in a small breath and swallowed, continuing to work on the bouquet quietly, trying not to let his eyes wander back to Viktor, deciding that the best option is to focus on the last thorns and start to arrange them.

Viktor glanced up at Yuuri, and watched him as he worked on the bouquet. The rose from earlier had been left on the table in front of him, and it every ounce of Viktor’s self control not to reach out his hand again. He numbly paraded his hand around the flower, over the petal and stem.

Yuuri noticed his careful movements, and tied the flowers together, completing the bouquet and cutting the excess string. The sharp snipping of the scissors made Viktor look up at Yuuri, and he found himself blush under the softened sight laid on him. He smiled awkwardly and lifted the flowers in his arms, “It’s done,” he announced, and the blushed impossibly harder when Viktor’s sight stopped on the flowers, his eyes shining. He stood and Yuuri stretched out the bouquet, waiting patiently as Viktor carefully took it into his hands.

“I don’t think you should worry too much about freezing these flowers, I made sure that they won’t,"He smiled, and Viktor noticed the double wrapping of the bouquet. He knew that the extra layer of thin paper wouldn’t do much to protect Viktor’s cold hands, but that wasn’t what Yuuri was talking about, though he supposed that a visual would help him feel more at ease as he held the flowers in his arms.

Viktor smiled brightly, cheeks slightly pink as he thanked him quietly, and asked how much it was for his services. Yuuri started to stammer and shake his head, but Viktor had already taken gold from his pouch and placed it on his table, saying his thank you’s again and heading towards the door, leaving Yuuri standing and looking as Viktor left with careful steps.

Slowly, Yuuri reached for the rose, which had been left abandoned on the table before he’d started the bouquet and brought it close to his chest.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, feeling his mother’s warm arms around him, his father’s  firm hand on his shoulder and his sister’s hands ruffling his hair. His heart dropped for a second, how long had it been since he’d last seen them? He didn’t know, but he could still feel them with him. He opened the door and ran to Viktor, yelling his name.

He stopped and turned around to face Yuuri.

He outstretched his hand, the rose between them, “You forgot this,” he said shyly as Viktor looked at him surprised, “It’s alright, you can keep it, two more will grow in it’s place,” He answered what he knew Viktor would say.

After a short moment, Viktor said, “It’ll just freeze again, I can’t keep it,”

Yuuri titled his head, and shook it, “It won’t,”

Slowly, Viktor reached for the rose, before asking once more it it was alright, to the which Yuuri said “Consider it your welcome gift,” with a slight blush on his cheeks.

He turned around once more, waving to Viktor, who stood with a bouquet in one arm and a large blue rose in his other hand. He started at it incredulously, and he let out another thank you into the air, the flower boy was already inside his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had my friends read the drafts again and again, so I'd like to think that this is decent. I'm also really happy that they meet I don't know about you >:3c


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